


Undercover

by helsinkibaby



Category: Smallville, Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-07
Updated: 2004-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-14 17:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2199798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe Sullivan needs to go undercover to get close to the truth about the Stargate program.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Pairings That Ate Fandom

Of all the scrapes she’s ever got herself into, Chloe thought, of all the insane things she’s ever done, all the stunts she’s ever pulled, this is the most nervous that she’s ever been. A bitter smile twists her lips as she realises that, if she’s being honest with herself, she might as well be really honest, and admit that she left nervous behind quite a while ago.

Things weren’t supposed to go like this. Not for her. Not when she was finally where she’d worked so hard to be all her life, graduating top of her journalism class from Metropolis University, getting the kind of newspaper job she’s always dreamed of. She didn’t even mind that she had to move to Colorado Springs, figuring that she could do with a fresh start, somewhere far away from Clark Kent, far away from the reach of Lex and Lionel Luthor, far away from Metropolis and Smallville and all the baggage those places carried.

Colorado Springs was supposed to be a fresh start. A new place, new people, none of the trust issues that had dogged her previous relationships.

It hadn’t worked out that way.

It was supposed to be easy. An undercover assignment they called it, and she’d leaped at the chance to prove what she could do. She’d always liked the thrill of the chase, uncovering secrets, ever since working on the Torch.

That, she thinks now, really should have been her first clue to shake her head, drop any thoughts of doing the story and run as fast as her legs could carry her.

But she didn’t do that.

She listened to her editor as he told her about rumblings about a secret military project at Cheyenne Mountain military base, something that was top secret, reaching all the way to the higher echelons of the government. Chloe had been intrigued, but had known that there was no way that those career military folks were going to talk.

No problem, she’d been told.

They’d identified a civilian target.

So she’d let them tell her all about him, had done her research, found out everything she could about Dr Daniel Jackson. Genius anthropologist, driven out of academia thanks to his rather avant-garde theories, who seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth in 1997, before reappearing in the few reports out of Cheyenne Mountain that were declassified.

That alone had been enough to perk her interest, because what possible work could an archaeologist be doing for the military? And what could the military be doing that was so big a secret?

So she’d done what any self-respecting investigative journalist would do, she’d investigated. Posed as a graduate student who was interested in his theories, contacted him, asked if she could meet him, discuss them.

He’d turned her down, which, of course, had only made her more determined. Chloe Sullivan had never let a story get away from her yet; she wasn’t going to start with a story that could make her name as a serious journalist.

So, at the risk of being branded a stalker, she stepped up her attempts to come into contact with him, and she didn’t stop, not until he said yes.

Their first meeting was at a coffee shop downtown, a place that was quiet, but not too quiet, a place where the only people who would notice them were people who wanted to notice them, and Chloe had known that there were people there. She just couldn’t say whether they were just on her side, or also on his.

She’d done her research before meeting him, knew his theories, had read all his papers, had read all the papers about him.

She thought she was prepared.

Then she heard a by-now familiar voice say her name and looked up into a pair of clear blue eyes, enhanced rather than hid by glasses, and in that split second, she realised that she wasn’t prepared at all.

They ordered coffee, and they talked about his theories, and they stayed there for two hours, even if he’d told her initially that he could only stay for a few minutes. And by the end of their conversation, when Chloe realised just how long they’d been there, moreover that somewhere after the first half-cup, she’d actually forgotten that she was investigating him, she realised just how big of a problem she had.

Which didn’t stop her agreeing to meet him again, his suggestion, not hers, and she had a feeling, from the look in his eyes, that he was as surprised that he was suggesting it as she was.

The next time they met, she was the one who suggested another meeting.

It was then that she kissed him.

It was also then that he told her the myriad reasons that they couldn’t be together. His work was the major one, the fact that he travelled a lot, often at short notice, and that it wasn’t fair to her.

The reporter in her had wanted him to continue; the woman who was falling for him wanted nothing more than for him to stop.

It wasn’t the only reason though. Her career, believe it or not, was another concern of his, because he thought that she was going to be an archaeologist, and that being associated – and that word was said with twitching lips and the clearing of a throat, a slight blush painting his cheeks, all of which made Chloe want to kiss him senseless – with him, with his reputation, wouldn’t do her any favours.

Then there was the teeny matter of a twenty-some year age difference.

All of those were perfectly valid reasons why nothing could happen between them, and Chloe agreed with them all.

But they weren’t the real reason, and she knew it, even as she left his apartment barely able to hold back her tears.

Just like they weren’t the reason that, in the three days since that meeting, she’s hardly slept a wink.

This is, Chloe knows, the most insane thing she’s ever done, the most trouble that she’s ever got herself into. Because she’s pretty sure that she’s falling in love with a guy that she’s met exactly three times, a guy that she’s supposed to be investigating, a guy who couldn’t be more wrong for her.

She should forget all about him, tell her editor that she can’t do the story, take whatever scut work he decides to dish out.

That’s what she should do, she knows that.

But instead, she’s here, on Daniel Jackson’s doorstep, about to see him for the fourth time.

About to lay her whole life out on the line.

She’s thought about it, in those long, sleepless nights, has worked out exactly what she’s going to say to him.

Then the door opens, and she finds herself looking into those blue eyes, and she realises that she’s not prepared at all.

“Chloe,” he says, sounding shocked, but he can’t hide the flash of something not-unhappy in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

She takes a deep breath, screws up her courage. “I need to talk to you,” she says.

Shadows fall across his face. “Chloe-”

“Daniel, please.” Her voice, the pleading tone it holds, shocks him, and she swallows hard, tries to smile. “There’s something you need to know.”

He holds her gaze for a long moment, then opens the door, steps back to let her in. For just as long a moment, she hesitates, then steps across the threshold, lets the door fall shut behind her.  



End file.
